The Troll Under The Bridge
by Ifsogrl
Summary: Edward Cullen is a troll. He should live under a bridge because he is so ignorant and monstrous and just plain hideous. I hope he goes bald before he turns thirty.


BPOV

Edward Cullen is a fucking asshole and I know it, the school knows it and of course he knows it. He knows it the best.

He makes it his personal mission to piss off everyone around him. Actually, I'm pretty sure one of the main goals is to suck the life and joy out of every single happy person he encounters. I heard a rumor once that if you stare into his satanic eyes for more than 12 seconds your firstborn child will hate you, you will consequently have bad luck all your life and you will die alone and unloved with not one single cat.

Well, actually that one is ridiculous and just plain stupid but nevertheless, it emphasizes my point.

Which is Edward Cullen is a troll. He should live under a bridge because he is so ignorant and monstrous and just plain hideous. He is the single most infuriating person that I've ever met and I hope he goes bald before he turns thirty.

I have thought of 32 different ways of smashing my sneakers in his stupid face in the last hour and I'm still counting as I stomp my way out of biology.

Apparently Mr. Banner thought he should spicy up this year's long project by assigning us different partners. I watched with morbid fascination as he worked his magic. I've never actually seen people wilt so quickly in my life. It became clear that Mr. Banner had this little special super power that made everyone's life a hell so quickly and so easily that believe it or not I was actually impressed. Of course my amusement didn't last long and soon I felt like vomiting right on Jessica's sculpted hair that was so conveniently aligned with my open mouth.

Now, you may be tempted to think that I am overreacting and being dramatic but I can assure you that it is not the case. Cullen is just as bad as the rumors make him if not worse. And I'm not speaking about the eccentric ones.

I opened my moth to see if my suspicions were right and if Jessica was on to a trip to the bathroom soon but the only thing that came out of my mouth were sounds similar to a hairless monkey being strangled. I closed my mouth disappointed.

Jessica's puddle hair turned around. She was that kind of person to make you think that if there was a God then he surely had a sense of humor. Her bright pink lipstick was smeared all over her teeth and her yellow eyeshadow made her eyes look like two giant bananas when she squinted like that. The cocksucker.

'What the fuck Swan? Spit made you gag again?' she asked in a gleefully smug tone. I watched as a drop of saliva fell from her mouth on my sleeve. Oh, how ironic.

When I was in the sixth grade I made the mistake of venturing in one of the music classes. I was actually rather pleased with my new interest despite Mrs. Gerald's concerned looks. She kept telling me that maybe music was not the right choice for everybody. I ignored her as everyone knew that Mrs. Collins was a nutcase.

Painfully ridiculous story short I picked up a flute and began blowing, except it made no sound so I naturally tried harder. I heard Mrs. Gerald say that it was clogged probably or some shit like that but it was too late because I was on a mission and could care less. It was unacceptable to give up; the flute had to make a sound at least. Obviously, once I started feeling short of breath I began coughing really badly. I remember dropping the flute and spitting. But coughing and spitting don't go hand in hand and I was quick to learn that when I began gagging. In the end I passed out and woke up several hours after with the image of my dad shaking his head at me.

Disgusted, I quickly removed my jacket because everyone knew what Jessica's favorite break activity was. I gave her my best bitch glare.

'Your blowjob breath is disgusting Stanley. If I had a dick it would shrink and die just at the sight of you'

She made face, narrowing her banana extraordinaire eyes at me before she turned around with a huff.

Well isn't she just a peach?

But she was quickly forgotten when from the corner of my eyes I saw Edward Cullen trying to kill me with the laser beams his eyes were shooting.

When I turned my head he made the strangest face, he wiggled his eyebrows at me and then as if sensing the wrongness of the emotion he was displaying he gave me the ultimate death glare. He looked down to his hands and I followed his line of vision to see his pointing fingers cross in an X. For a moment we stared dumbly at each other before I turned around my eyes never leaving his dumb long fingers.

When my eyes were safely trained on Jessica's trampled hair style I felt my face fall in a frown.

What the fuck was that? Was that a thread? Well of course, it's not like he just felt like arranging his fingers in a fucking X because he grew bored with the way people usually kept their fingers.

Was he signaling that I was dead meat? I dejectedly thought about my last meal, one sad, sad granola bar. This is unacceptable. I can't die without actually eating something good like chocolate, ice cream, pizza and all the unhealthy shit I can get my hands on. What's the point of dying if you can't do the things you want before?

Except that was the way a coward thought because there was no way I was letting myself be bullied by Edward fucking Cullen.

'Dumbass' I called out. Go figure, half the class turned to look.

When I was sure that Cullen was watching I slowly brought two fingers to my temple in a poor imitation of a gun and made a 'POW!' sound. Around me jaws dropped and I was pretty sure that I've just sealed my fate because nobody ever provoked Cullen.

What was that Charlie kept telling me about reckless behavior? Don't do it?

He raised his stupid eyebrows at me and he almost looked amused for a second. Almost. But then he suddenly turned his attention on a piece of paper and began scribbling furiously.

Well, I've never received a death letter before. I'm sure Cullen was not about to confess his love for me and wait for me to circle yes or no as a reply so I was anticipating something along the lines 'You, me, parking lot, after school, bring a knife' .Or maybe without the knife part? Yeah, probably.

The balled up paper hit me directly in the head. I contemplated ignoring the shit out of it but I in the end I was curious.

'_I'll come around 6 I hope you like coke'_ and under that fucking line was a scribble of a dead bird.

What? What? What? What? What?

I gaped at him but he no longer seemed interested in me and was looking out the window with a bored look on his face.

I cannot stress the wrongness of that piece of paper enough.

'_I'll come round…'_ What?

'…_around 6'_ What? What?

'…_I hope you like coke' _this however, was truly disturbing. The way he formulated it, like he actually had expectations that were not negative in their nature. And the coke part? Well, I was pretty certain that he didn't mean the beverage.

The dead bird? Oh, that was the most normal thing about his note.

The bell rings conveniently right before my imminent meltdown.

I pack my things quickly but apparently not quickly enough because I suddenly feel the hovering presence of sick puppies, bee stings and milk gone bad, wrapped in the baggage that is Edward fucking Cullen.

'Swan' he whispers moodily. Well, at least I think it was a moody whisper, after all what do I know? He could have a sore throat after all the coke he snorted. Does coke snorting affect your throat?

I turned around with my eyes firmly planted on his shoulders. Wait, should I look at his right shoulder or his left? Does it even matter?

He arranged his messenger's bag strap and successfully managed to draw my attention to his hands again which he slowly lifted until they were right before his face where he wiggled them.

'See you then cake face' he said with a haunting expression with a sarcastic raise of his mouth.

'You know what? You-you-you carrot! We can do this like proper civilized almost adults. You will give me your email and-

'I'm 18 so there shouldn't be an almost in that sentence.' he interrupted me like the asshole he is.

'Oh go figure, you're mature right? You have the adulthood of a 12 year-old girl' I exclaimed and successfully slapped a kid as he was trying to avoid bumping into us. That was obviously an accident and I sent him a look that I hope conveyed my sincere apology. It was unfortunately not well received when he pointed to a rapidly reddening eye with a 'freak' murmured under his breath.

'You speak of maturity and civility, yet you continue to insult me when I've been nothing but polite and charming to you. You also cause body harm to unsuspecting passersby.' He replied calmly like he was discussing the weather or whatever satanic thing he watches on TV.

I pointed a finger at him and I opened my mouth to deny everything but he went on.

'You are also demanding and I am sad to say that you have the social skills of a 5 year-old boy who mocks the things he likes. 'He stopped for a moment, his eyes working a magic voodoo trick on me.

'Should I read into this?'

I blinked. What?

Was he insinuating…?

I felt myself go pale just at the thought of me liking Edward fucking Cullen in any way. Actually I would like to plant my sneaker clad feet in his ridiculously slightly-more-attractive-that-normal derriere.

I arranged my expression.

'Well then come around. I'll be waiting' and with that I turned around without noticing the eyebrow raise my words caused.


End file.
